


Take Me Away and Take Me Farther

by lls_mutant



Category: Glee
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Rape, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:24:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lls_mutant/pseuds/lls_mutant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Going to a club in New York during Nationals seemed like a great idea at the time… until it turned into a nightmare for Kurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me Away and Take Me Farther

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/glee_kink_meme/6968.html?thread=13001784#t13001784).

New York hotel rooms were small. It was a tight fit for seven girls and two guys, but the excited chatter and the general anticipation of a night out in New York made it worth the crunch. Lauren was finally claiming her turn in the shower, Santana was drying her hair, Quinn and Mercedes were good-naturedly jostling each other for mirror space, Brittany was using the flat-iron on her hair, and Kurt and Blaine were on the bed, watching the general commotion and staying out of the way. Well, Blaine was staying out of the way, sprawled across the comforter. Kurt perched on the edge, ready to pronounce judgment on each outfit.

"You are not wearing that," Kurt informed Rachel.

Rachel looked down at her outfit. "Why not?" she demanded.

Kurt sighed heavily and looked over his shoulder. "Mercedes? Blaine? Someone? Please explain it in words she can understand?"

It was Brittany that spoke up. "Giraffe sweaters don't go with sequined skirts," she said. "The giraffes eat the sequins."

"Not quite the explanation I was going for, but good enough," Kurt said.

"I don't know," Blaine said, "I think it's kind of charming."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "This from the man who sucked her face while she was wearing that atrocity of a Gunne Sax..." Kurt faded off with a shudder. "I don't know how you could even put your hands on it. It should be burned."

Rachel drew herself up. "I'll have you know," she said haughtily, "that my dads-"

"No, Kurt's right," Mercedes interrupted. "That dress should be burned. But that skirt is actually pretty hot, if you put the right top with it. Which that giraffe sweater isn't."

"Maybe you could use the skirt to burn the dress," Brittany suggested. Everyone stared at her.

"Whatever," Santana said finally, obviously bored. "Take the sweater off, Berry." Rachel cast a not in front of them sort of look at Kurt and Blaine, and Santana rolled her eyes. "Please," she said. "Like either of them are going to be oogling those mosquito bites you call boobs."

"No, that's really your department, isn't it?" Quinn asked, all icy and smug.

"Like I'd stoop that low," Santana scoffed.

Rachel sighed and pulled off the sweater. Kurt eyed her critically, and when she reached for another top he grabbed her wrist.

"No."

"What? Kurt, this is just a camisole!"

"So? It looks hotter than anything else you've got in that suitcase."

"I can't go out in just my underwear!"

"Rachel, trust me. With the kind of underwear you wear, you can. Believe me, you're not showing anything."

"He's right," Mercedes said. "Damn, girl, don't you even own a pushup bra?"

Rachel flushed. "Well, what's that that you're wearing?" she demanded of Kurt, gesturing at his legs. "A skirt?"

"A skirt," Kurt agreed loftily.

"Seriously?" Santana, equal opportunity offender, asked. "Because it looks like you hit Hot Topic with Tina."

"This isn't from Hot Topic," Kurt snapped back. "It's leather."

"I feel like I should be offended," Tina muttered. "But the tights and the boots do make it."

"I've got no complaints," Blaine agreed, smacking Kurt lightly on the ass. Kurt turned bright red, but at the same time, his eyes lit up.

There was a knock on the hotel room door.

"They're ready already?" Tina squeaked, and quickly finger-combed her hair. "I'm not ready!"

"Relax," Lauren said, coming out of the bathroom. "They aren't going anywhere yet. Not unless they think they're going to drag me out of here naked."

"Puck just might," Kurt said, standing up. "I'll go tell them you're not ready."

He answered the door, blocking the opening with his body. "They aren't ready yet," he told Finn.

Finn stared at him blankly. "I know. You think I haven't figured out that it takes longer than this for girls to get ready?"

"Just as well," Kurt mused, raking his eyes over Finn's jeans, t-shirt, and flannel shirt. "You're obviously not ready either."

"Yes I am."

"You're going out to a New York club in _that_?" Kurt demanded.

"Yeah. About that." Finn looked Kurt up and down. "Dude... look. I get that this is New York and you can be who you want to be and all that, all right? But I'm pretty sure that you're going to give someone the wrong idea in that outfit."

Kurt's eyes narrowed. " _What_ wrong idea?"

Finn looked sheepish, but didn't back down. "I'm pretty sure that's bondage gear or something."

"So?" Kurt demanded. " _Blaine_ is here, Finn. Do you really think there's any way I'm leaving wherever we go with anyone but him tonight?"

Finn looked relieved. "Yeah. Guess not." His eyes landed on Kurt's skirt, he opened his mouth, and then shut it again. "Yeah. Never mind. Anyway, I just wanted to let you guys know that Puck's back."

"Really? Already?"

"Already, Hummel," Puck said, sauntering down the hall. "And you guys all owe me, 'cause I got 'em." He fanned out a stack of laminated cards.

"You're kidding," Kurt breathed excitedly, taking the one that Puck handed him. His own face smiled out from an Ohio driver's license that proclaimed he was born in 1990.

"Told you I could get 'em," Puck said smugly. "Although if yours doesn't work, don't go blaming me, because I'm pretty sure you're gonna have a hard time convincing them your testicles dropped, much less that you're twenty-one." Finn snorted at that, and Puck pulled back. "Although in that get-up, if we get the right bouncer, they'll let you in without looking at anything but your ass."

"Thank you, Puckerman," Kurt said dryly. "See?" he demanded of Finn.

"Actually, I think he just proved _my_ point," Finn said.

"Anyway," Puck interrupted, handing Kurt a stack, "hand these out to the girls."

"Thanks."

"And the guys say that we've got a half-hour," Finn put in. "It's a warning."

"I'll let them know." Kurt looked at Finn one last time. "Really," he sighed, "you could at least wear a tight t-shirt or something."

Finn looked vaguely repulsed, but Kurt shut the door on him, looking at the stack of cards in his hands.

Fake IDs. New York was _theirs_ tonight. He could hardly wait.

***

It had been Mike who'd found the club they ended up at. One that wasn't too exclusive, so they had a chance at getting in, and wasn't too expensive, so they could actually afford it. One that didn't have a line and a velvet rope outside, but had a bored bouncer who only gave the briefest looks at their IDs.

"I can't believe they let us in!" Tina squealed gleefully. "I thought it would be a lot harder than that!"

"Hey, if there's one thing I'm good at, it's crime," Puck bragged. "Well, that and sex."

The music was loud and thumping, and the place was packed. Kurt looked around, trying to look bored but aware his interest was probably showing on his face. They went up a set of stairs to a crowded dance floor, a live band playing on a stage.

"They kind of suck," Blaine shouted in his ear. He wrapped his arm around Kurt's waist, though, and pulled him a little closer.

"They could be worse," Kurt shouted back. It wasn't his normal type of music at all, but it would do. "Want to dance?"

They worked their way out onto the crowded dance floor. Dancing far apart wasn't an option, but Kurt didn't exactly mind. There was barely enough air between them to move, but Blaine dropped his hands to Kurt's waist and Kurt really could have cared less about the crowds.

"You look _hot_ tonight," Blaine shouted in Kurt's ear, pulling him closer. "Did I tell you that?"

"Not yet," Kurt shouted back, trying to smirk. "But tell me again if you want to."

Blaine laughed and pulled Kurt right up against him, slipping his thigh between Kurt's legs. It was a little awkward because deep down, Kurt knew he was not particularly good at dancing like this, but hell, when he was honest, neither was Blaine. He closed his eyes and rubbed against Blaine's thigh, and Blaine's hands traveled from his waist to his ass. He tilted his head up so his lips were right against Kurt's ear.

"You really do look hot," he said, and with the noise, Blaine's speaking voice almost felt like a whisper. "There are a lot of guys watching you." Kurt pulled back a little, looking around in shock, but Blaine shook his head. "Don't look at them," he said, and his voice sounded hoarse and sexy in Kurt's ear. "Tonight, it's you and me, and for once we can just be all over each other in public."

It sent shivers down Kurt's spine, the way Blaine said that, and definitely in a good way. "I can handle that," he said, draping his arms around Blaine's neck. But the truth was, he still felt self-conscious. "Although maybe a drink..."

Blaine laughed. "Yeah. I was thinking the same thing," he agreed. "Shall we?"

"Let's," Kurt agreed, and laughing, they made their way to the bar.

***

Three drinks later, it was much easier for Kurt to press against Blaine. The floor didn't feel as sticky and the band didn't sound as bad, and everything seemed funny. Blaine's hands wouldn't stay away from Kurt's ass, and Kurt had completely stopped feeling self-conscious about it and in fact, did not really like it when they did wander away. His own hands kept roaming up and down Blaine's body, from shoulder to thigh, depending on what they were doing.

They could dance drunk. Everything was so much more fluid, and they could grind against each other without either of them feeling stupid. And when Kurt wrapped his hand around Blaine's neck and pulled him in for a sloppy, open-mouth kiss, he was pretty sure he was on top of the world, especially when Blaine took a moment to let his hands wander to Kurt's thighs and up his skirt for a second.

Whoa. Skirts were a great idea.

The only thing that stopped them was Mercedes pulling Kurt away and Tina pulling at Blaine, both of them laughing and demanding dances. "Oh my God," Mercedes laughed as she and Kurt danced wildly. "You two are so going to do each other right here on the dance floor. Can't keep your hands off each other, can you?"

"Hey, can you blame me?" Kurt asked gleefully. "When do I get the chance to do that? I'm sure Finn's puking into his drink."

"Finn's barely noticing," Mercedes laughed, pointing to where Finn was... well, for a lack of a better word... _dancing_ with two girls. He had a beer in one hand and looked more like he was spasming. Kurt giggled.

In fact, now that Mercedes had dragged him up for air, Kurt was able to see that all of New Directions had cut loose a little. Puck and Lauren were making out in a corner, and he was half sure she had a hand down Puck's pants. (Maybe. Maybe not. It was really hard to see, and Kurt was pretty sure he didn't want to know.) Brittany and Santana were dancing with two of the hottest guys that Kurt had ever seen, but the gleam in Santana's eye suggested that she had every intention of being the one to take Brittany home. Artie was there with them (Kurt had missed how they got his wheelchair up the stairs), and from the way Brittany kept coming up to him, Kurt was forced to wonder if there was some threesome action going on, at least tonight. Quinn and Sam were kissing (again?), and Mike was dancing with Rachel, spinning her under his arm.

"Best idea ever," he told Mercedes, and she laughed and nodded, and he spun her around and dipped her. "Come on," he said happily when the number ended. "Let's go get another drink."

***

"So what are the sleeping arrangements tonight?" Blaine asked when he found Kurt and Mercedes at the bar.

"I think you need a pen and paper," Mercedes said. "It's like a giant flow chart."

"It's not that hard," Kurt argued, taking a sip of his gin and tonic. "Finn and I were supposed to share a room, but Finn swapped with Mike."

"So you're sharing with Mike?" Blaine asked, obviously confused.

"No," Kurt explained. "Mike is going to stay in Tina's room. Tina was supposed to stay with Brittany, but we all know Brittany will end up either in Santana or Artie's room. So if they go to Santana's room, Lauren is going to Puck's room, and if they go to Artie's room, Puck is going to Lauren's, and then Santana is going to crash with Rachel and Quinn is either going to shack up with Sam or Finn."

"What about you?" Blaine asked Mercedes.

"I'm staying with whoever's not having sex," Mercedes said glibly. "Which, I assume, means not the two of you." Kurt's cheeks flared red, and Blaine stuttered, but Mercedes just laughed. "Finn, Rachel, and I can have a girls' night and gossip about all the shit the rest of you all are getting up to."

"Ugh. Don't put it that way, Mercedes," Kurt groaned, but couldn't help laughing. The alcohol had made him loose and happy, and he had a suspicion he'd better stop drinking soon, while he felt like this. On top of the fucking world, and the night was only going to get better. Especially when Blaine reached out and touched his cheek.

"Okay. Enough with the goopy stuff," Mercedes said. "Let's dance again."

The three of them headed back to the dance floor. It was the three of them, but Blaine's smile seemed like it was just for Kurt.

The band was still playing, and the crowd had actually gotten thicker, if it was possible. At some point, Rachel came over and squealing, pulled Mercedes away. Kurt thought he heard something about a group of young hot guys that came in, and wondered if he should be offended Rachel didn't grab him, too. But then Blaine pressed up against him again, and Kurt didn't care.

The music slowed down, and Blaine wrapped his arms tight around Kurt's waist. It was the only thing that made it feel different to be dancing with Blaine- the floor was so packed now that there was a couple wedged right beside them and someone kept bumping into Kurt from behind. But Blaine then Blaine kissed him and Kurt didn't give a shit about anything else happening around them as the world focused down to Blaine.

"Tonight is gonna be great," Blaine whispered when they broke apart.

"Definitely," Kurt agreed.

Blaine made a face as the song ended and the music shifted again. "I'll be right back," he said. "I've really gotta pee."

Kurt looked at the mass of people, and realized there was something of a disturbance. The band was playing some swing-like number, and Mike and Brittany were dancing. "Go ahead," he shouted. "I want to watch them."

Blaine smiled and started worming his way though the crowd. Kurt watching him go for a second, and then started trying to work his way closer to Mike and Brittany. It was hard. People were starting to realize what kind of dancers they were, and the crowd was compressing even further to give them space. Someone elbowed Kurt, and he stepped back, right onto someone's toes.

"Sorry," he shouted over his shoulder.

"Believe me. No problem." Hands were on his hips.

Kurt glared over his shoulder, although he couldn't quite see the guy behind him. "Excuse me," he said icily, "but please take your hands off me."

The guy didn't. Instead, he squeezed. Hard. Kurt squirmed, but stopped cold when something pressed against his back.

"Don't move," the voice said right in his ear. "You feel that? That's a gun."

Kurt lifted his chin, trying to jerk away. "In a club?" he said, his voice cracking. "Not likely."

One arm snaked around his waist, pulling him back hard. The other slipped around just enough so Kurt could see a flash of silver under a leather cuff before it disappeared. Big hands. Really big hands. "Believe me now?" the voice said.

"Oh my God," Kurt whispered.

"That's right. Don't even think about moving."

Kurt's eyes flared open, and his breathing became shallow with fear. _There's nothing he can do _, he thought suddenly. _We're in a club. He can't shoot me. He'd be caught. There are a million people around. He just wants my wallet or something._ The thought was a relief. "It's in my pocket," he said. "The left one."__

The man laughed. "That's not what I want," he said, right in Kurt's ear. The rasp of stubble scraped his skin, and one hand worked his skirt up. "Just stay still, or I will shoot you." The gun was a cold metal circle against the small of his back.

 _I will shoot you._

He can't, he can't, Kurt thought frantically, but he couldn't make himself move. The person in front of him moved back, right onto his toes, and there were people pressed on either side. Thick fingers worked under the tights he had on, yanking them down partway to his thighs.

 _Someone's got to see_ , Kurt thought as the man behind him grunted. _Someone's got to see and-_

No one saw, and the man thrust in.

Kurt couldn't help the guttural scream that gargled in his throat, and the gun pressed harder into his back. It hurt like hell, like he was being ripped to pieces with each thrust. His attacker moved in an unconscious beat with the music, and time slowed down.

He stood there, in the middle of a seedy club in New York, being raped in the middle of a crowd. The person in front of him moved to the side a few inches, and he could see Mike and Brittany so clearly, spinning and laughing. Mike flipped Brittany over his arm and she spun around, the purple flashing lights catching her hair. They both leaned back from each other, and between them, Kurt saw Blaine.

Blaine, whose dark brows were meeting in the center of his forehead, watching Kurt with concern.

 _Help,_ Kurt mouthed at him. _Please. Help me._

 _What?_ Blaine mouthed back. He probably didn't mouth it, Kurt realized. He probably shouted it. But then the pain was becoming too much, rhythmically sending hot waves of agony up his spine, and the hand on his hip tightened harder, and Kurt had to close his eyes, just for a minute.

Bad idea, because when he closed his eyes everything focused onto that. His knees were trembling and his hands hung limply at his sides, and that damn gun dug into the skin of his back, and his ass was on fire.

He snapped his eyes back open. Mike and Brittany were still dancing, and Blaine was struggling through the crowd. He was pushing and shoving, but he couldn't move them, couldn't get anyone to step aside. Everyone wanted to see the show.

 _I'm coming,_ Blaine shouted, and Kurt was suddenly aware that he was crying. Deep, gulping sobs that he was trying to keep silent, because that damn gun would go off if anyone knew what was happening and then....

He turned his head, just for a minute. Someone had to know what was going on. Someone had to realize it. And in that moment, his eyes met Puck's.

Puck gave him the thumb's up. His mouth formed two words, which much, much later, Kurt found out were _you dog_. Puck thought he wanted this.

Kurt shook his head, just a little. _Help me,_ he mouthed.

His attacker's arm went around his waist, and Kurt was pulled in even tighter. A forehead was buried in his shoulder, teeth were on his neck, and he picked up his pace, thrusting harder and faster.

Comprehension dawned on Puck's face, and he whacked Finn's arm and started to try to push through the crowd. But he was met with the same problem as Blaine, as Kurt himself- the crowd simply would not give. Kurt looked in front of him to see that Blaine had managed to make some progress, but he still seemed miles away.

"Hang on!" Kurt was almost sure he heard him shout it. "I'm coming! Kurt! I'm coming!"

"I'm coming," that harsh voice whispered in his ear again, in a tone that made Kurt think his attacker wasn't even aware of speaking. Kurt's hips were pulled back tight and the man pushed in so deep that Kurt had to scream again, but by now the song was over and the crowd was cheering and no one heard it for what it was.

And then he pulled out. Kurt nearly collapsed at the relief of it, but the man pulled out. The circle of metal stayed at his back for a minute longer, and then it was gone. The crowd was spreading out now, and when Kurt whirled around to face his attacker, all he saw was a pair of broad shoulders and a cap hurrying away. No face, no identifying features.

There was a cool waft over his bare skin and he suddenly realized that his skirt was still up and his pants were still down, and then there was warmth and Blaine catching him by the waist. Blaine, who pushed Kurt's skirt down and held him, whispering over in over in Kurt's ear.

"I'm here. You're okay now. I'm here."

He saw them moving like a dream, Puck and Finn. They had been heading towards them, but as the attacker headed for the door, Puck veered in his trajectory. Finn followed, and as they went down the stairs, Finn lept ahead of Puck. The door swung open once when the attacker ran out, and again as Finn and Puck did.

Gunshot.

It wasn't so loud that people heard it. Kurt only did because he was listening for it, and near the door, someone did scream. But the rest of the club acted like it was normal. Maybe they thought it was a car backfiring, or that there was nothing they could do, or what, Kurt didn't know. This was fucking New York, not Lima. And back behind them, no one could hear it.

They waited, but Finn and Puck didn't come back in. Lauren appeared at their side, though.

"What happened?" she demanded.

Blaine looked at Kurt, and Kurt was surprised to discover he was trembling. Lauren's eyes narrowed as she watched him, but she didn't say anything. Blaine's arms tightened around Kurt.

Still no Puck and Finn.

"We've got to see," Kurt finally said, when they didn't come back in. "We've got to see what happened."

"You sure?" Blaine asked. Kurt nodded.

The three of them pushed through the crowd and made their way down the steps. Walking hurt and the steps were agony, but Blaine was there with his arm around Kurt's waist, and Kurt leaned on him. Behind them, the band still played and people were still drinking, laughing... dancing. Kurt wanted to be sick.

They stepped into the cool night air, and immediately were met by the sounds of Puck swearing at the bouncer. Finn was standing next to him, and since he wasn't involved in reaming the guy out he spotted them first.

"Kurt! What the hell- are you okay?"

"I..." Kurt didn't know how to answer that question, because just saying no wasn't something he knew how to do. But Finn was coming, and then Finn had an arm around his other shoulder, strong and solid and familiar.

"What the hell is going on?" Lauren demanded. "Someone explain it to me now, before I wipe the floor with all of you."

Puck looked from Lauren to Kurt and back again. "It's Hummel," he said, oddly subdued for as flushed and angry as he was. "Some guy was fucking him."

Hearing it stated like that made Kurt want to lean over and throw up, right there on the sidewalk. He almost did, except for Blaine tightening his grip around his waist.

"Shut up, Noah," Blaine said angrily. "You might have checked to see if Kurt wanted you to say anything."

"We should get Kurt to a hospital," Finn interrupted before Puck could retaliate. "Seriously. That's what they do on all the Law and Order shows and stuff."

"I'll get a cab," Lauren said and stepped out towards the sidewalk.

"It's gonna be okay," Finn told Kurt. "Right, Blaine?"

"Right. It's going to be okay," Blaine echoed.

Kurt didn't answer.

***

The ride to the hospital was cramped and quiet. Somehow, they managed to shove all five of them into one cab, but Kurt never knew exactly how. He watched the lights of the city file by him. This was New York.

His stomach turned over at that thought.

He was sitting half on Blaine's lap and half on Finn's, and the cab was nearly silent. Puck was watching him, all dark eyes and anger, and Lauren was staring out the window. No one knew what to say.

His phone rang.

It hurt to dig it out of his pocket, and when he checked the screen he saw it was Rachel. He closed his eyes, and then someone took it out of his hands.

"Rachel." Lauren answered it. There was the sound of Rachel's voice, almost chipmunkish in her rage. Lauren just looked bored.

"Yeah, look," she said. "We've got this thing, okay? Puck drank way too much, the idiot, and so me and Finn and Kurt and Blaine are taking care of him, all right? Yeah. You take care of the others. We'll see you back at the hotel." She hung up and held the phone up. "Want me to hold on to this for right now?" she asked Kurt.

He nodded. Lauren had lied for him. Without asking, without any pretense... she'd just flat out done it. And without prodding him, she turned away and went back to watching the city go by.

They rode the rest of the way to the hospital in silence.

***

They waited in the emergency room intake, sitting on hard plastic chairs and watching other patients come in.

"Shit, man," Puck said when a man was dragged in, bleeding from the head. "This is serious shit."

"You think?" Blaine asked irritably. His fingers were tangled with Kurt's, and Kurt stared at them blankly. They'd told the nurse what had happened, a little, and yet she still couldn't find them a bed yet.

A bed. Kurt shuddered at the idea.

"Guys?" Finn asked suddenly, "should we call Mr. Schue?"

"No," Puck answered. "Not yet. Not unless we don't make it back tonight."

"That okay with you, Kurt?" Lauren asked pointedly.

Kurt nodded silently.

They sat on the hard chairs and waited.

***

They called him at 3:32. Kurt had been staring at the clock, listening to Puck and Finn quietly argue about some video game.

"Only one of you," the nurse said.

Blaine and Finn looked at each other, both ready to step up. And Kurt wasn't sure he wanted to let go of Blaine's hand. But at the same time, he had enough of an idea to know what was going to happen, and he didn't want either of them there. "Lauren," he said dully.

Lauren just nodded and came with him without a word.

The nurse gave Kurt a gown and told him to undress, and then pointed to a bed. Kurt shucked his clothes off awkwardly, and then managed to sit on the bed. Lauren sat down in a chair, and the silence stretched between them. She didn't try to talk, and he was grateful.

He wondered what Mercedes and Rachel were doing right now, and then closed his eyes at the thought. Mercedes. That was who he really wanted right now. Mercedes who would tell him how he was going to get through this and that he wasn't going to let this bring him down and... and then he'd start crying, probably, because she would be, too. No, maybe it was better Mercedes wasn't here.

The doctor was a small Indian woman. She was proficient and sympathetic, and she said he was lucky there wasn't more damage. She asked him questions, and she asked more questions than Kurt wanted to answer. He did, though, in a dull voice. No, he hadn't seen his attacker's face. All he knew was that the man was big, broad, and had light-colored skin. Yes, there had been other people around. No, apparently, they hadn't seen it. But he'd had a gun.

Yes, he'd been in a club with a fake ID.

Yes, those were the clothes he'd been wearing.

Yes, he'd been wearing a skirt.

Yes, he'd been drinking.

She didn't ask it like that. They were calm questions, trying to put together the information. Trying to help him figure out what to do. But as Kurt answered them, it started coming clearer and clearer to him.

He was underage. He'd been drunk. He'd been dressed like that.

It wasn't his fault. He knew that. But damn it if he hadn't made it a hell of a lot easier for this to happen.

"Do you want to make a report?" the doctor finally asked.

"No," Kurt answered. "I just want to go home."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lauren look away. If it was Mercedes, she would have been crying. He knew that.

But it wasn't, and Lauren was angry.

***

t was 5:45 when the doctor finally let Kurt out of the bed and released him, a bottle of painkillers and a few industrial strength suppositories in hand. He stepped out into the waiting room, half expecting the other three to be asleep.

Puck was on his feet first. "What happened?" he demanded.

"He didn't report it," Lauren growled.

"What? Kurt!" Blaine turned on him. "You need to report it!"

"I can't," Kurt mumbled. God, he wanted to sleep. "I just can't."

"Why the hell not?" Puck demanded.

"We were in that club illegally," Kurt pointed out tiredly. "We had fake IDs."

"So what?" Puck demanded. "I would have taken the rap for that."

"You couldn't take it all."

"I think they would have let it go, given the circumstances," Blaine said. Kurt was too tired to point out that he had no evidence for thinking that.

"It doesn't matter," Kurt said. "If I'd just..."

"If you'd just what?" Finn asked, when Kurt trailed off.

"Nothing. Let's go back to the hotel."

"You should really go down to the police station," Lauren muttered.

"Mr. Schue's going to start wondering where we are," Kurt pointed out. "We've got to get back before anyone knows."

"You're not going to tell Schuester?" Puck asked. Kurt shook his head. Puck and Lauren exchanged glances, but both of them seemed to get it and keep their mouths shut.

"Come on." It was Blaine who finally spoke. "You guys have to be at Nationals in a couple of hours. We'd better get moving."

***

 _Raped. Raped. Raped._ The word kept pounding through Kurt's head. Through the whole taxi ride back to the hotel, as he took a long, hot shower, as he dried and styled his hair, as he got dressed. The painkillers made him groggy, and he wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and not come out ever again.

"Good night last night?" Mercedes asked him when they started walking to the theater.

Kurt didn't answer.

Every heartbeat, every pounding of his head, every footstep that he heard, every drumbeat and every honk of a horn, he heard the word screaming in his mind.

 _Raped._

***

"You know," Finn said as they changed into their costumes, "we saw him a bit."

"What did happen out there, anyway?" Kurt asked.

"We were going after him, and he turned and fired," Finn explained. "Puck must have seen it coming. He tackled me. You ought to see my knees," he said, starting to laugh, and then realizing just how incredibly inappropriate it was. "But yeah. If it hadn't been for Puck... he saved my life."

"Glad something good came of it," Kurt said dully.

Finn looked like he wanted to reach out, but wasn't sure how Kurt would take it. Which was fine. _Kurt_ wasn't sure how he'd take it. "You'll get through it, man," Finn finally said. "You okay to go on?"

"The show must go on," Kurt quipped with a bitter smile. "I'll manage."

"I know you will."

***

They made it to the semi-finals, and then were knocked out by Vocal Adrenaline. Kurt couldn't believe they'd made it that far.

"I know you guys were hoping to win," Mr. Schuester said encouragingly afterwards, "but coming this far? That was a huge victory. You were amazing. All of you. And next year, you'll go even farther. Next year when we come back here-"

It was at that point Kurt's stomach finally rebelled, and he barely managed to stumble to a wastebasket in time.

***

The disappointment wore off quickly, and New Directions wanted to celebrate. Dinner, talk of a show, maybe a club. Kurt watched them planning, watched Finn laughing with Rachel and Puck and Lauren teasing Brittany and Mike.

"We don't have to go," Blaine said in his ear. "I'll stay with you, and we can just watch a movie in the room. Everyone will think we're... you know... so you won't have to answer any questions."

Kurt closed his eyes in relief. "Thanks," he said, and he squeezed Blaine's hand.

***

They ordered up from room service and settled together in the bed. Blaine leaned against the wall and Kurt laid down under the comforter, his head in Blaine's lap. Blaine was hesitant to touch him at first, but soon he was stroking Kurt's hair. It felt good.

They watched light, stupid romantic comedies. Kurt didn't even remember which ones. It didn't really matter, when it came down to it. The room was silent aside from the movie, and he was warm.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Blaine asked at one point.

"No," Kurt answered.

"You need to," Blaine prompted him softly.

"Not with you." He could feel the hurt radiating off Blaine and sighed. "This is good, Blaine. I don't want... I don't want this tainted."

Blaine ran his fingers through Kurt's hair. "It wouldn't be," he said finally, softly. "It's not like that."

He didn't want to fight. He didn't want to argue. He just closed his eyes and let Blaine stroke his hair.

***

When they were packing to leave, he threw out the skirt.

"You're throwing it out?" Finn asked, still worried.

"I'd burn it if I could," Kurt said, adding in the shirt he'd been wearing as well.

"Why?"

"I never should have worn it. You said it yourself."

"I... I didn't mean...."

Kurt shrugged. "That doesn't mean it's not true."

Finn frowned.

***

The thought kept coming back to him. _If I hadn't gone to that club. If I hadn't been drinking. If I hadn't worn that skirt._

That skirt, that all someone had to do was lift. That skirt, which made it so easy to get at him. _That skirt_ , which shouted he was a girl and he was into this stuff and he was easy and he'd give it up and he...

Kurt looked out the window of the plane and tried to forget.

***

"You gonna tell them?" Finn asked as they got off the plane.

"What do you think?" Kurt snapped.

Finn sighed. "I figured. I just thought I'd be sure."

Their parents were waiting for them at the baggage claim. Kurt forced his best smile and went to greet them.

***

They didn't talk about it. Puck kept his mouth shut, Lauren still didn't have much to say, and Finn and Blaine got the hint after Kurt shot them down a few times. Kurt tried to bury it the best he could.

"You do need to face it sometime, Kurt," Blaine told him one day. "If not with me, then with somebody."

"I don't," Kurt insisted. "It's over. It's done."

"You don't believe that."

He didn't, but that didn't matter. It had to be true.

***

"Kurt? What's this?" His father waved a paper in front of him.

Kurt took the paper, puzzled. "A bill?"

"Yeah. A hospital bill. For the emergency room at a hospital in New York."

Kurt froze, staring at the paper. It didn't say what happened, he realized. There was nothing on there. Nothing at all.

"Kurt? I'm waiting for an answer."

"I... I don't know," Kurt said. "I...."

"All right. Don't tell me." His father took the bill back, suspiciously calm. "But when you feel like you trust me enough that you can tell me what the hell you were doing in an emergency room in New York City, you come tell me right away."

He left the room, and Kurt only made it to the bathroom to throw up just in time.

***

He should have known his father gave in too easily. He should have seen it coming. Instead of pushing him, his father and Carole had double teamed Finn. And Finn broke.

Kurt didn't hear the conversation. He didn't need to. He knew it had happened the minute he walked in the house and his father pulled him into a tight hug, the kind where he wouldn't let go.

"You should have told me," his father said. "Why couldn't you tell me?"

 _Because I couldn't say the words._ Kurt just looked away.

***

"I'm sorry, dude," Finn said the next morning. "I didn't want to tell them, but they-"

"No," Kurt said tiredly. "I know."

Finn fiddled with his fork. "It might be for the best," he finally said. "You really need to... I don't know. Talk to somebody. Or something."

"I don't, Finn. It's over."

"It isn't that easy," Finn tried, but Kurt cut him off.

"Yeah, well, it's going to be."

***

"I gotta know something," Puck said, falling into step beside Kurt.

"The library is an excellent resource in times like these," Kurt said. He just wanted to get home and get away from everyone.

"Yeah, well, the library ain't gonna help me with this puzzle, Hummel. Why didn't you report it?"

"Because it was fruitless. I didn't have enough to go on."

"Bullshit."

"Bullshit?" Kurt stopped and looked Puck in the eye. "Excuse me?"

"You've never even asked me and Finn if we got a good look at the fuckhead when we were chasing him down."

Kurt's blood turned cold. "You didn't."

"Did, actually."

"No."

"Yes. Want me to tell you what he looked like?"

"No." Kurt gripped his bag tighter. He wasn't shaking. He _wasn't._ "You didn't see him."

"Sure did. So that's got me thinking, you didn't want to report it for some other reason. You sure as hell didn't look like you were enjoying it, so you're not worried about fall out from cheating on Blaine."

"Don't bother with the deep analysis," Kurt snapped. "Your brain isn't built for it." He started to walk again.

"I'm gonna get this, Hummel," Puck threatened.

Kurt thought of all those years in the dumpster, pee balloons and lawn furniture, shoves and slushies. All long before he'd come out, all long before Puck had said two words to him. All for dressing like he did, being who he was.

"Yeah," he said. "You will."

***

They were alone in Blaine's room, his parents out for a shopping trip. Gentle kisses and tentative touches... that was all Blaine had dared since... since _New York._

"We can do more," Kurt whispered.

Blaine pulled away. "I don't want to push you."

"I'm not asking you to push me," Kurt answered. "I just said we can do more."

"You sure?"

Kurt shook his head. "Don't keep asking me. Let's just... let's just be together, okay?"

Blaine swallowed hard. "Okay," he said, and wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist.

Kurt pulled him back onto the bed, arranging himself underneath. This was good, he told himself as Blaine kissed him, his hands moving over Kurt's torso. This was what he wanted- what he'd always wanted. Blaine's hands, gentle and becoming more sure as Kurt responded, as they moved together. Clothes coming off as gracefully as if it had been choreographed. Well, not really gracefully, but Kurt could pretend. The two of them stretched on the bed, naked and moving against each other. Kurt closed his eyes against the warmth and the light as Blaine reached down between them and positioned their erections against each other. His back was warm and smooth under Kurt's hands, his breath was hot on his neck. This was everything he wanted, when Blaine came against him and came down, covering Kurt's face and neck and shoulders with kisses.

"You all right?" Blaine asked, when they lay together, legs tangled and Blaine's arm heavy on his waist.

"Best I've been in a while," Kurt said, and it was the truth.

But some little voice in him screamed how much he wasn't better.

***

His father could drag him to a psychologist, because Kurt was underage and he held the power over Kurt's allowance. But once they were there, he couldn't make him talk.

The psychologist was nice enough, Kurt thought. A man who reminded him a little of Wes, not so much in appearance but the expression he got on his face when he was listening, like he was weighing every word. If Kurt wanted to talk, he could see himself talking to someone like this. He just didn't want to talk.

After all, there was nothing to say.

***

Amazingly enough, life went on.

There was schoolwork and there were finals. There was Mercedes and Tina and Rachel, none of whom had a clue as to what was going on in Kurt's head. There were glee practices which were more goofing around, there were shopping trips, and there were movie nights. There were family dinners and video games with Finn, working in the garage with his father and cooking and teasing with Carole. There were dates with Blaine, and kisses and conversations and yes, times where they did a lot more. They'd planned on actually venturing into anal sex in New York, but without discussion, they'd both stepped back from that for now. Blaine didn't seem to mind, and Kurt was grateful.

He was able to smile, to laugh, and to tease. He was able to flirt and enjoy sex. He was able to breathe again, to talk to people, to celebrate. He really believed he was healing.

His father dragged him to the psychologist anyway.

***

"You've been avoiding me."

Kurt froze, the refrigerator door open. "What are you doing here?" he asked Lauren.

She shrugged. "What do you think? Finn asked Puckerman to play some stupid video game, and I came on over with him. Beats hanging around the house doing nothing. You could get me a Coke, by the way."

He grabbed one out of Finn's stash and tossed it to her. "Brilliant, Hummel," she said with a crack of a smile. "Now how about one that won't explode when I open it?"

He rolled his eyes, took out another Coke and handed it to her, and got a slice of cold pizza for himself. "I only have the one," he said ungraciously.

Lauren shrugged. "Don't care. Let's get back to the original point. You've been avoiding me."

"School's out," Kurt said, unwrapping the slice of pizza and taking a neat bite.

"You've been avoiding Puck, too."

"Not to put too fine a point on it, but Puck hasn't exactly been my best friend. He's spent more time tossing me into dumpsters than anything else."

"Yeah," Lauren said, completely unapologetic. "Before. But last month he was chasing down an armed maniac for you."

Kurt put the pizza down.

"He still doesn't get why you didn't try to turn the asshole in."

"They never would have caught him," Kurt said, his mouth dry. "Can we not talk about this?"

"You don't know that they never would have caught him," Lauren said, ignoring Kurt's request. "So what was your big problem?"

"Who said I had a problem?" Kurt snapped. "And what the fuck do you care?"

Lauren's gaze was steely, and worse, calm. "Can I ask you something?" she said, in a tone that meant that it didn't matter what Kurt's answer was. "What were you wearing?"

 _Fuck you!_ Kurt wanted to shout, but the words wouldn't come. He looked away.

"Yeah, see, that's what I thought," Lauren said. "I mean, it's not that hard to figure out, especially since I heard what Hudson said to you right before we went out."

"I don't want to talk about this," Kurt said.

"You sent Rachel out in her underwear," Lauren said. "A skirt and her underwear. Granted, her underwear is as frumpy as hell and she couldn't get a grandpa off in that shit, but it was still underwear. If someone lifted up her skirt, would you be thinking that it was her fault?"

"Shut up!"

"I'm just saying," Lauren said.

"Don't say it," Kurt ordered. "Don't ever mention it again." He slammed his soda down and stormed out of the room, pizza abandoned on the counter. That bitch. That absolute bitch.

She didn't know the first thing about it.

***

"How's it going with the shrink?" his father asked one night while they did the dishes. "It getting any easier?"

"No," Kurt answered.

"Huh." They washed in silence for a bit. "Is there anything I can do?" his dad finally asked. "Cause if there is, you only have to ask."

"I know, Dad," Kurt said quietly. He wanted... he wanted....

He left the water running and turned to his father. His father watching him for a minute, confused, and then understood. He wrapped his arms around Kurt and pulled him close, hugging him tight.

They stood in the middle of the kitchen, hugging, the water still running and Kurt's hands still wet with soap.

***

 _Would you be thinking it was her fault?_ The words kept running through his brain as he watched Rachel, her skirt blowing in the summer breeze. When he saw Quinn, laughing in a sundress. When Brittany twirled, delighted as the soft fabric flared up around her hips.

All the girls except Mercedes had been wearing skirts or dresses that night.

Kurt didn't even want to think about what could have happened to them.

***

"That night," he said to Blaine as they walked in the park.

Blaine froze. "Yes?"

Kurt slid his fingers through Blaine's. "That night," he said, his voice choking, "you said I looked hot. Did you mean it?"

Blaine paused for a long moment before answering, obviously worried about his answer. "I did," he said slowly. "And you did."

"Do you think-"

" _No._ " It was instantaneous and firm.

Kurt nodded, feeling like he was a million miles away. "You looked hot, too."

Blaine forced a smile. "I did, didn't I?" he said, his voice choked. "Kurt..."

"No. That's all. Come on. Let's go do something horrible like get ice cream."

Blaine looked like he wanted to argue, but didn't push it. "All right," he said. "Ice cream."

***

 

"How's things with Blaine?" Finn asked him when they were getting ready to go to the fireworks.

"Good," Kurt said, spraying himself with the foul liquid called bug repellant. "They're good."

"Yeah?" Finn smiled at that. "You know," he said cautiously, "it seems like he's been really...."

"Yeah. He's been really good," Kurt admitted.

"Good," Finn declared. "You deserve that." Finn paused. "Hey- you okay?"

Kurt tried to keep the sob that welled up inside, but failed miserably. Finn looked like he was about to panic.

"Kurt, whatever I said, I..." He could see Finn replaying the words. "Kurt?"

"I'm... Finn?"

They didn't hug often, but Finn wrapped his arms around Kurt. "I don't know what I said wrong," he said, "but I'm sorry."

 _You didn't do anything wrong._ The thought only made Kurt cry harder. Finn just patted his back awkwardly.

***

It was a rainy day. Rainy and gray, with thunder gently rolling in the distance. The office felt darker with the lack of sunlight, but Kurt noticed the green in the couch and the dark swirls in the wood of the psychologist's desk. They stood out in crystal clarity, like the crystal paperweight and the silver framed picture of a little girl.

"What's on your mind today, Kurt?" the psychologist said, with the little Wes-like smile. "What do you want to talk about?"

Kurt took a deep breath, feeling like he was standing on the edge of a cliff. He thought about Puck, about Lauren, about Finn and Blaine, and all of them there, ready to catch him. Unconditional. There had to be something to faith like that- it didn't happen by accident.

"I want," he began, and then faltered. He dug his fingers into the couch and tried again. "I want to talk about New York."

The psychologist smiled. "All right, Kurt. Let's talk about New York."

And imagining Blaine on one side and Finn on the other, and Lauren and Puck nodding from across the room, Kurt did.


End file.
